Winter turns to Spring
by AdriElsa37
Summary: There was once a man with everything at his fingertips. Even though he had everything, he had nothing at the same time. There was once a girl, who had almost nothing compared to some. But to her, she had everything she ever needed. The man was cursed to have nothing and only the girl could help him. (PotO/BatB crossover)
1. The Prologue

Once upon a time...

Hidden in a beautiful castle in the very heart of France lived a young and handsome prince named Erik. Although he had anything his selfish young heart desired, he was never content. He taxed the villages surrounding his castle immensely to fill his domain with the most beautiful objects, to host lavish parties and invite the most beautiful people.

It was at a party like this when his life turned around.

He sat on his golden throne in his expensive dark blue robes, drinking red wine from his golden goblet. At his feet danced many pretty women clad all in white, smiling radiant smiles at him. On the small stage to his right stood a woman in a extremely poofy golden dress, her shiny red hair falling over her shoulder in giant tresses. The woman's name was Carlotta Guidicelli and she was a famous opera singer, invited to the party to sing while her husband, Ubaldo Piangi, accompanied her on a piano with the rest of the castle orchestra sitting behind them. If Erik were to describe the woman's voice, it would be overly-dramatic with a extremely thick Italian accent, but people seemed to like her, so he said no word.

As the next song came on, the prince gracefully stood up from his majestic throne, the glances of all the ladies immediately on him. As he waded his way through the dancing women, he sometimes grabbed one of the girls by the hand or the waist, spun her around and discarded her afterwards, moving onto the next dancer, who caught his sight. In his trail remained heartbroken women, yearning for just another dance with the prince.

As the song came to it's grand finish, a bright lightning bolt struck down from the sky and desperate knocking sounded from the glass door behind the prince's throne. Without anybody opening it, the door flew open, the cold wind from the outside making all candles in the bright ballroom to lose their light. A hunched-over figure in a dark cloak slowly crept in, stopping a few meters away from the prince, the hood drawn over the intruder's face.

The prince ushered one of his servants to hand him a candlestick andcautiously came a few steps closer. In front of Erik kneeled an old wrinkly woman in dirty and tattered clothes. She was covered in filth and her thick, but worn down woolen cloak was wet from the raging storm outside.

"Please, my lord, could you not find me someplace to wait through the storm? You could just give me a place in the stables and some old piece of bread and some water. I won't need much." The old woman begged, extending one of her skeletal hands towards Erik. In her hand, she was holding a beautiful blood red rose. The flower was in full bloom, small droplets of water resting on the petals.

Prince Erik took the rose from her, studying the flower. After a moment, he smiled a sarcastic grin, which lead to a mocking laughter erupting from his lips. "A rose? You expect me to give you shelter for a simple flower? To an old and hideous hag like you?" He mocked the beggar and threw the flower onto the cold marble floor. "Go to someone other's door."

"But, prince Erik, I advise you not judge by appearances. True beauty is found within. Would you not turn me away if I were a gorgeous young maiden, like all those girls behind you?"

"Get out of my sight!" The prince bellowed, his icy blue eyes flaring wildly with anger.

"Very well..." the woman said, bending down for the rose she brought. Soft golden light started to shine from under her hood and soon, the before dark room was once again lit up. But not by the candles. The light erupted from the woman's features, which turned from old and filthy to young and clean, her entire being dripping with magic power.

All the people started to run away from the gorgeous enchantress, who now stood before them, leaving the young prince and his servants alone. At that moment, Erik realized his mistake. He fell onto his knees in front of the sorceress.

"Please, miss, forgive me for being so rude." The prince tried to apologize to her. "You can wait through the storm in the castle's finest room and I will give you what ever you would want..."

"It is too late for apologizing, dear prince." The sorceress said, slowly circling around him, the train of her glowing robes surrounding him and her pale green eyes piercing right through him. "I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears that there is no love in your heart whatsoever. Therefore, you will be punished for your actions."

The enchantress leaned closer to him and kissed the prince's forehead. One would expect a kiss from a beautiful woman to be soft and comforting, but her kiss burned and made pain surge all through Erik's body.

He clutched the right half of his face with his hands, feeling his entire face shifting. He looked at the enchantress from behind his fingers. "From this day forward, you shall wear your ugly soul on your face, dear prince. Your servants shall become mere objects, so that you won't have a human being to take comfort from. No one will remember you, them or this place. Your castle shall be surrounded by winter, reminding you of the coldness of your heart."

"I shall give you three gifts, prince Erik. Take great care of each of them." The enchantress fashioned three objects out of thin air. "The first is a magical book. If you lay your hand over one of the pages and think of a place, where you would like to escape to, you will be there in your mind. The second is a mirror. If you look into it and say someone's name, it will show them to you. And last, a rose." The sorceress took the rose she was holding and put it in a glass case, where it became suspended in mid air and it it's petals retracted back to a young bud. "This rose will measure your time. When the last petal of this rose falls, you will stay like this forever. However, this spell binding you and your servants to this place can be broken. You just have to find someone, who you would love and they would love you in return."

With those words, the enchantress vanished in a burst of light. Erik sat stunned on the ground for a few more moments, before daring to look into the mirror the sorceress gifted him. However, when his eyes caught sight of his reflection, he gave out a a yelp of horror. He no longer looked like a handsome young prince, rather a gruesome monster.

The right side of his face was completely twisted, the deformity continuing all the way to the back of his head. His hands were bony and had scars going from his fingertips all the way up his arm and to the rest of his body. His before muscular and lightly tanned form became skeletal and pale, showing off all his scars all the more.

Soon, he started to rip apart all of the portraits, that he was in, trying to forget about the past. Most of his time, he started to spend in the West Wing, where his chambers were situated. There he kept his magical rose.

As days, months and soon years started to pass, he just watched the rose slowly blooming. He fell into despair and soon enough lost all hope of ever being happy.

For who could ever learn to love a monster?


	2. I- Simple Provincial Life

The early morning sun has slowly risen from behind the nearby hills. It shone it's golden light onto a small village, where a young girl has just woken up, tiredly rubbing her fist over her left eye, trying to fight off the blinding light.

She got up soon after, dressing herself in a modest blue dress and gently brushing through her dark brown curls before she pulled them back with a blue ribbon, exiting the little cottage, where she lived.

The church clock announced eight in the morning and everyone was ready to start their daily life in the small village. Women were opening their windows, airing out their pillows and bedsheets. The tasty smell of freshly baked bread filled up the little alleyway.

The girl, who's name was Christine Daae, untied her pouch a little bit, looking for a few pennies for a loaf of bread. She took the nearest one as she went by and laid the few quarters in it's place.

Christine wanted to avoid talking with the baker, since her talk was always cut short by the man leaving to take out a new batch of bread rolls or him just looking completely disinterested in whatever she talked about.

Christine had a passion for the theatrical arts and singing. Whatever she talked about, she couldn't help but mention one of the operas, to which she has read a manuscript at one time. Even now, she was carrying with her a hefty score, about to return it to the local priest.

The priest kept a fairly large number of scores, many for the organ, but some were complete scripts of operas, which he acquired on his stays in Paris. Christine would usually borrow one of the scores from him, practicing playing it on an old piano, which was in her house ever since she remembered.

However, since there were no new titles to pick from, Christine picked out her favorite. The story was about a young prince in disguise as a housemaid, only so that he could be near his beloved countess and unnoticed by her jealous old husband.

As she walked through the plaza, she opened the leather case and started to hum out the overture. A hand, however, jerked the score out of her hands and held it suspended high in the air, out of her reach.

The individual, who interrupted Christine's own interpretation of the piece was Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. He was an extremely handsome young man, who all the village maidens fawned over. He was the epitome of beauty as described by books: golden-haired, blue-eyed, quite tall, muscular and rich.

However, Christine remembered a time when the vicomte was a little boy, thin as a stick and all caked in mud from playing with her. He used to call her Little Lotte, since for the first month, that he has known her, he constantly mistook her name for Charlotte. Over the years, the nickname has stayed with her. But after Raoul returned from serving in the military, he seemed to be a completely different person.

"Well well, Little Lotte, what do we have here today?" He opened the score all the while avoiding Christine's tries to get the score back. "How can you understand this gibberish?"

"It is not gibberish at all, Raoul." Christine said, finally getting back the opera. "And I know how to read it, because my father taught me how." With that, she left back home.

When she entered the living room, which was slightly remodeled into a music room, she found her father playing on his violin. Her father was Gustave Daae, a well known Swedish musician. Christine never knew her mother,but based on the stories her father told Christine of her, she was an amazing human being, gentle and caring.

"Hello darling." Said Gustave after he put his chin down from his violin, "what exciting story did you bring me today?"

"Il Muto." Christine opened the score on the Countess' aria.

"But you borrow that one almost every time, honey." Her father smiled at her.

"I cannot help it, papa! Just imagine: a beautiful estate, an unhappy prince in love, a woman blind to all the love he could offer her and by act three, she realizes, that she loves him back. That he is not just a play toy."

"Will you accompany me?" Gustave asked his daughter, preparing his violin. After they finished with the daily practice, Christine helped cook a meal for lunch, before her father would leave for yet another fair.

Christine's family had some debts here and there, so that's why Gustave went to every nearby fair. To gain some money for both of them.

Christine also helped pack up her father's bags and put them onto the back of the vagon strapped to their family horse, Cesar.

"What shall I bring you back, my darling girl?" Gustave asked, just as always.

"A rose. A single blood red rose."

"But you wish for that every time I go." her father argued.

"And you bring it every time I ask for it."

As her father left, Raoul appeared right around the corner, planning to woo Christine.

After dropping a few not-so-subtle hints, Christine already knew that Raoul wanted to make their relationship more serious.

She literally shut the door right in his face, the anger bubbling in her. Why should she marry the likes of him? They had nothing in common.

To calm down, Christine sat on her piano bench and tapped out the melody to the Countess's first aria, where she has been told that she was engaged to a disgusting man.

"His madame,

Can't you just see it?

His madame,

His little wife.

No sir, not me

I guarantee it!

I could never get used to such a life!"

To calm her mind she ran up to one of the nearby hills, where a singe lonely tree stood. Despite wearing a dress, she climbed up it's branches and looked into the distance. Near the forest, she saw the small silhouette of her father.

"Take care, papa" she whispered into the wind.


	3. II- A Strange Castle

Gustave cautiously went through the woods. The sun has already set and a lantern was his only source of light. The moon couldn't be seen, since the entire sky was under the veil of storm clouds, which already started to softly cry down.

Gustave came to a crossroads and stopped for a moment, trying to pull his map out of the saddlebag. All of the sudden, lightning stroke down, giving out a bright flash and making the tree it hit fall down onto the road.

Ceasar started panicking, making a few steps back. Gustave had to jump down and assure the white horse, that everything is going to be okay. After Ceasar was calm, Gustave pulled out the map once again, finding out, that the passage he intended to go through was now blocked by the fallen tree.

"Well, when the God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Said the violinist as he gestured to the other free path. The horse distrustingly looked at him, but they were on the road once again.

As they went further, their surroundings became stranger and stranger. First, the light sprinkle of rain turned into snowflakes. The ground became slippery and every inch of grass was replaced by cold snow cushions.

"Don't worry, Ceasar." Gustave assured the horse. "It is just some snow...in the middle of June..."

The sound of quiet footsteps started nearing Gustave. When he turned around, he saw a pack of snow wolves creeping up on him.

Gustave sped the horse into a gallop, swiftly speeding through the woods. However, the wolves were slowly gaining up on him, trying to lunge at him or at Ceasar's feet.

In the distance, Gustave saw some sort of gate, so he sped Ceasar up once more. As soon as they crossed the gate, the wolves stopped in their tracks, crinkling their noses and softly growling before they went away.

The old violinist jumped down from Ceasar's back, leading him through the garden behind the gates, wondering who this could have been in the forest all the time. At the end of the pathway was a castle, but it looked severely abandoned, pieces of fallen stone scattered here and there.

However abandoned the castle may have looked, someone must have been living here, since a few lanterns lining the stairway to the door were lit up and so was a light inside a little stable located in the base of the stairway.

Gustave tied Ceasar up in the stable, finding fresh water and hay. After giving the horse a reassuring pat, he walked up the stairs to thank whoever lived here.

The door all of a sudden opened right in front of him. He wanted to thank whoever opened the door, but no one was there. When he entered, he saw the warm light of a fireplace, but no one was sitting near it.

"André, look! A visitor! He must be lost" Gustave heard an excited whisper.

And soon, another followed: "Shut your mouth, you idiot."

He came to the spot, from which he heard the voices come from, but found no one there. Instead, under the window, he saw two objects: a candelabra and a clock. The candelabra was entirely made out of gold, having the appearance of a male figure with a flowing scarf, the candles resting on the figure's hands and head. The clock also looked as if it had a two small black eyes and a moustache, with two golden holders on it's sides looking like hands.

From some more far away room, Gustave heard the soft tune of a piano. The tune led him to a ballroom, were a beautifully made piano stood. As soon as he entered the room, the two candles on the piano went out and the music stopped. Gustave looked around the room, noticing that it must have originally looked majestic, but the chandeliers were covered with sheets and the floor was covered in dust.

As soon as he started heading out, he heard the clanking of cutlery. As if someone was setting the table. After wandering through more dusty corridors, he found a dining room. The table had a three course meal set, everything in very expensive looking china.

Gustave sat down, still wondering who was behind all of this. As he enjoyed a few bites of the steak set on the table, he notoced a small teacup moving towards him. He instantly backed away, still staring down the teacup. It had a little chip at the top and an adorable set of eyes and a mouth painted around it's handle.

"Forgive me, mister, but have some tea please." A soft girly voice spoke from the teacup. "My name is Jammes. Mamma said that I shouldn't move, that I could scare somebody." The teacup glanced up at Gustave, noticong his facial expression "Sorry."

"No, that's okay..." Slowly said Gustave, still with the shocked expression plastered on his face before he quickly jumped out of his chair and ran back to the main doorway.

"Thank you for taking me in for a while." Gustave said loudly into the abandoned castle while he took his coat from the coat hanger. "Goodbye." He said, not knowing that a pair of hostile ice blue eyes were watching him from the dark.

Gustave jumped back onto Ceasar's back, riding away. However, he stopped at a beautiful bench with a pavilion, around which grew roses.

"Wait, Ceasar." Gustave said, tying the animal up. "Christine asked me for a rose."

In the shadows, on top of the pavilion, a tall figure crept, watching with narrowed eyes as Gustave took out a pocket knife and sliced one of the flowers off.

At that moment, the figure jumped down, right in front of Gustave. Ceasar whinied and pulled at his reins so hard, that the leather teared and the horse ran away.

In front of Gustave stood an imposing male figure. The man's face was horribly deformed and he held a noose in one of his hands, a sword strapped around his waist.

"Monsieur, you shouldn't get involved in affairs concerning ghosts."


	4. III- All For My Father

Christine was angrily picking carrots from the cottage's little garden when she heard a scared whinny. As she lift her head, she saw Ceasar run into the stable and start drinking the water. However, her father was nowhere in sight. She ran towards Ceasar, noticing the mud all over his hooves and the torn up reins.

"Ceasar, where is papa? Could you lead me to him?" Christine desperately asked the animal. Ceasar softly whinnied in response. After saddling him up with her own saddle and tying a cloak around her shoulders, the two set off in a wild gallop.

Unlike other ladies of her time, Christine didn't ride side-saddle. All of the delicate French ladies at her village have almost never even rode a horse, but if they did, it would be a slow ride around town, while their prettiest dress hung around one side of the animal they were riding along with their legs. Christine, however, sat on a horse like a man would. When she and her father lived back in Sweden, he taught her to ride the horse. So that she wouldn't be forced to ride side-saddle, Christine wore barely half the amount of petticoats underneath her skirt, so that she could fasten it up on one side.

As they rode further into the forest, the temperature started to drop, snow was everywhere and the ground was covered in ice. At the end of the forest was a giant black gate with icicles hanging down from it, the frost sparkling in the afternoon sun.

Christine went with Ceasar through the snowy gardens, tying him up at the stairway to the main door. As she went to step on the stairs, she noticed a pretty big stick lying around in the snow. She took it's end as one would take a sword, the snow covering it chilling her fingertips.

"Might be useful if I run into someone dangerous." Shethought to herself.

She carefully went up the stairs and soon reached the door, which almost magically opened right in front of her. Christine spent a few seconds looking around the door, looking for the person, who had opened it. As she looked down at the ground, she noticed that it was covered in a generous layer of dust, with only one set of footprints leading through it. The foootprints must have been her father's.

"Look, André! A girl!" Christine heard a hushed whisper come from her right.

"I can see, you know. I cannot use my arms, not eyes, you idiot." A second voice replied.

"Who's there?" Christine neared the spot, where the voices should be, but all she saw was a golden candelabra and a mantel clock. Both very intrecately made, but definitely not alive.

A harsh cough resounded from the staircase. Not hesitating one second, Christine grabbed the candelabra, leaving her stick behind and ran upstairs. She followed the coughing up to a dark stairwell, which lead to a dungeon. There, in one of the dreary cells was her father.

"Papa!" Christine gasped and tightly wrapped her hands around the bars. "Papa, are you okay?"

"Christine! How did you find me here?"

"Ceasar led me here. I was so worried." Christine gasped as she took hold of his hands. "Your hands are as cold as ice. We need to get you out of here!"

"No, Christine, leave me here." Gustave protested "This castle is alive and you have to leave until he finds out about you!"

"Who is 'he', papa?" Christine asked, but was cut off from asking any other questions by a voice.

"My, my, looks like we have yet another guest..." The voice belonged to a man and if the speaker wanted to, it would be a heavenly pleasure to listen to him speak. However, the voice was clearly hostile and such coldness radiated from it, that it made a shiver run down Christine's spine.

"Who are you? Where are you? Show yourself!" Christine grabbed the candelabra, which she discarded a mere minute ago, waving it around, trying to see the mysterious voice.

"I am the ghost of this castle, mademoiselle. And if I were you, I would advise you leave this instant or a worse fate will befall you than your thief of a father. And I just put him under a lock." The voice seemed to come from all different directions.

"My father is not a thief, monsieur!" Christine argued with the ghost.

"Well, it does seem like when you pick a rose in this accursed castle, you get forever locked up in a jail cell." Gustave said.

"A life sentence for a rose?" Christine said shocked.

"I got eternal damnation for one!" The voice said, much nearer to Christine than before. In the shadows, Christine could barely make out a silhouette.

"I wanted the rose, monsieur. If you must, then keep me here instead of my father!" Christine now pleaded.

"What did you say?" The voice said surprised. The coldness from before was gone and in it's place was disbelief.

"I will stay here instead of my father." Christine said determined.

"Do you promise, mademoiselle?"

"Only if I am allowed to see who I am giving my promises."

The figure in the shadows let out a bitter chuckle. "You wouldn't want to know, miss."

At that moment, Christine fearlessly strode with the candelabra in her hand towards the figure and lift the light towards the shadow's face. What she saw truly shocked her.

The man's face was incredibly deformed on one side, a few light scars going across his temple and cheekbone on the other side. Feathery light brown tufts of hair were on his head where the flesh wasn't mangled. Ragged and torn up clothes hung off of his skeletal form, long black strips of what used to be a cape trailing behind him. The only normal thing about him were his eyes. They were incredibly blue and held a sort of sadness and longing in them.

Christine gasped. The man took this as a sign of her being frightened by him, so he said: "Get out."

"Fine." Christine replied. "But before I go, may I say goodbye to my father?"

The shadow just turned around, ignoring her request.

"Your heart is so cold, that you won't let a daughter to kiss her father goodbye? Eternity can wait for a moment."

The man turned to her with a scowl on his face. He stared her down for a while with those blue eyes and pressed the lever opening the cell door. "Once the door is locked, it will never be opened again." He warned the petite brunette.

Christine ran in, hugging her father. While she had her arms wrapped around him, she turned so that her father was facing the door with his back. She had her plan clear to do so. As she decided to go along with her plan, she nuzzled her chin into her father's shoulder, whispering in his ear: "Don't worry. I'll escape."

Without so much as saying 'what', Christine pushed Gustave out the door, quickly shutting herself in the jail cell. The mysterious man glanced with shock at what the girl decided to do. "You traded your life for his own." He whispered.

"I won't let my father die." Christine said determined, glaring at him.

"You are a fool, mademoiselle. And so is your father." With that, he dragged Gustave away, leaving Christine alone in the high up cell.


End file.
